


Traditional

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Daisy And Her Huge Crush On Coulson, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:11:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5183192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy and Coulson have to postpone their first Christmas together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traditional

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts).



"You realize it's the 26th, right?" she protested when Coulson told her where they were going earlier this morning.

"Well, we didn't have time on Christmas on account of –"

"On account of mortal peril and certain death and – yeah," Daisy agreed, rubbing her fingers against the strap of her sling. Yes, she tends to heal faster than regular humans, and the arm doesn't hurt anymore but she still can't move it at all.

They had had a sort of Christmas party on the medbay, with people gathering around an invalid Daisy and Bobbi sharing her stack of drinks and snacks with everybody. It was sweet and touching, with their unconventional family all gathered; except for May and Andrew who had left earlier that day and had other plans. Though May did send her a text later asking how she was doing and Daisy worried she was dying or May was dying because she had never received a text from May in the history of ever, which Daisy thinks it's fine, she knows May cares anyway – that mystery was solved when Andrew sent her a later message explaining May might have been a bit drunk, _ah_. But Daisy hadn't been able to really enjoy that on account of her injuries and how much pain she was in. By nine o'clock Coulson had ushered everybody out of the room and let her sleep.

Still, Daisy knows Coulson was disappointed that their plans of spending the weekend in a safehouse to celebrate had to be postponed. He was so disappointed that apparently he just decided that Christmas was whenever he wanted it to be.

Which is why she was just woken from her nap by the smell of meat roasting in the oven.

She lifts her head a bit and sees Coulson with his back turned to her, happily slaving away in the kitchen. And she means happily. The vibrations she feels from him tell her he's about to start humming any moment now. She can't have that so she gets up and walks up to him, hugging him from behind with her one good arm.

"Hey." She smells the back of his neck, tiptoeing. He smells of some kind of pastry. Something about it clicks for her and she pulls at his shirt and turns him around, pressing her mouth against his hard, pushing her tongue in without ceremony, like she's a bit angry she spent all that time sleeping when she could have been doing... well, this.

" _Hey_. Did you have a good nap?" Coulson asks, delighted by her aggressiveness.

"It's seeing you in an apron," she explains, running her healthy hand over his chest. "It really turns me on."

Coulson chuckles, ducking his head a bit. "I can wear it later to bed if you want."

"Don't joke, I will hold you to that, you know I will."

He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her for a wet kiss.

"So explain all this to me, what you cooked," she says, gesturing towards all the food on the kitchen auxiliary table, and then touching the back of Coulson's neck fondly. "My little homemaker."

He smiles at the word, charmed. She knows he has very domestic fantasies that Daisy has no problem in indulging. It's not like they are in any danger of ever leading a conventional life – much less a conventional relationship. She finds Coulson's longing to do little things for her – which normally involve cooking for her, or taking care of her when she's sick, or stealing her away from the base when he knew she needed a break but was too Daisy to ask for one – adorable. More than that, she's grateful.

"Well, we have the traditional roast ham. Grilled corn with aioli and cheese. Crimson slaw."

He has made way too much food, she thinks. She noticed that he had brought way too many groceries but this is ridiculous.

"And what's this?" Daisy asks, pointing towards a basket covered by a cloth.

"Muffins," Coulson says. "Apple, carrot and cranberries, regional recipe, you'll like them. I also made cranberry cheesecake."

"Very traditional indeed," she comments, wondering if he is trying to recreate his childhood holidays back in Wisconsin.

"That was the point," he confesses.

She looks at him. His cheeks are flushed from working on the kitchen all afternoon. Daisy feels wrong-footed by the newness of it all. She's not sure how to act in this situation. She wants to thank him for all this, but doesn't know how.

There's a smear of sugar icing on his chin and Daisy wipes it off, sucking her finger.

Coulson washes his hands and takes his apron off (pity...) as he cleans the cooking area.

"Come on, let's have a cocktail," he tells her, touching her elbow. "Everything is pretty much done and we have a bit of time until the ham is done."

She looks over at the drinks. He's been working on the cocktails as well.

"Old fashioned?" she asks, smelling the brandy.

"You know me," Coulson says and takes her by the hand to the living room area.

It's not exactly a home. It's just the Retreat, it's just a silly break. Coulson figured that she couldn't go on missions yet, anyway, so why not. It's the first time they have been away from the team and alone since they became lovers. She was looking forward to it, of course, but she found the idea a bit daunting when Coulson proposed it (more like ordered, as he knows it's the only way to get her to take a break). It's something new between them and Daisy wants – needs – it to be perfect.

"Feeling better?" he asks.

"This will help," she says, holding up her drink and taking a sip. It's gorgeous sweet. She's not a cocktail girl but Coulson has a nice way with it.

They settle on the couch. Daisy feels deliciously comfy in her flannel pajama pants and oversized sweater. She seizes Coulson up. He looks happy, relax in a way she had never seen before. The last couple of days had been hard on him – he won't say but he had been pretty freaked out until it became clear that Daisy was going to survive her latest reckless display of bravery (Coulson's words, said with a deep frown). He might have needed this break even more than Daisy.

She nudges him with her foot and a smile when he looks lost in thought. "Are you very into Christmas? I never asked."

"I'm not sure I am, personally. My mom always made a big deal out of Christmas after dad died," Coulson tells her. "It took me years until I realized that it was completely ridiculous, her family was Jewish." Daisy chuckles. "She just thought every kid deserved a proper Christmas. She thought I deserved it."

"Did she dress up as Santa too?"

"A couple of times, yes."

Daisy laughs out loud at the mental image. Coulson's mom must have been such a cool girl. Well, she did make Phil, so there's that. It's a pretty obvious thing to think about your lover and beloved (and Coulson is _both_ to her) but Daisy is hit by a wave of gratitude towards Coulson's parents. She is just really glad he was born.

"Christmas when I was a kid were pretty awful," she says, drawing her knees against her chest. Coulson listens, resting his hand over her foot, gently caressing the front of her ankle. "The nuns thought we should spend the holidays reflecting on how Jesus sacrified himself for all of us unworthy little punks. So yeah. Fond memories. Cheers."

"I'm sorry," he says, taking her hand in his and kissing the tips of her fingers.

She shakes her head. "It's okay. I just never cared much about this stuff."

"Me neither. When mom died it lost its meaning for me," he tells her. "Then afterwards... I never really found anyone to share this stuff with."

He gives her a shy, hopeful look at that.

It makes Daisy's heart ache, to think of all the years – decades, really – of loneliness in Coulson's life. If it's up to her he's never going to feel like that again.

"Do Inhumans have Christmas? Or any holidays?" Coulson asks, half in joking, have really wanting her to have that side to her life.

"I don't know," she admits. She would probably ask her mother if her mother hadn't tried to kill her and then died at the hands of Daisy's father. Ah. "There's a religious element to our traditions, but it's all about worshipping the Krees who came from the sky and gave us these gifts. So I try to stay away from that."

Coulson winces a bit. Yes, it's not like the influence of Kree stuff in his life is precisely happy, either.

"So we are both godless skeptics," she says, even knowing that Coulson's agnosticism is milder than her personal distate for religious stuff. "So what are we doing here, Phil?"

"I know you don't care about Christmas, and I don't care either. But it's our first one together. I wanted the full works."

"So this is about you being hopelessly corny, okay."

"As always," he agrees.

He scoops over and throws an arm around her shoulder and kisses her, gently but deeply. Daisy tests her mobility, wrapping her hand around the back of Coulson's neck and drawing him closer. This is all she needs, really. She appreciates the effort, but she wouldn't want Coulson to think that he needs to do this kind of stuff for her. It's enough that he's with her.

"This is very nice and I'm sure the food is spectacular but you really didn't have," she tells him. "I'm a very low mantainance girl."

"Oh yes, you are," he says in an umistakably naughty voice as he drops his head to kiss her neck, sliding his mouth over her collarbone.

His hand skims over her body lightly, pulling her sweater and making a straight line between her breasts to her stomach. He starts undoing the laces of her pants slowly, teasingly. Daisy arches an eyebrow.

"What is this?" she asks as Coulson pulls her pajama pants down her hips.

"Appetizers," he tells her, kissing her hard against the back of the couch.

He slips his hand easily under the waistband of her underwear.

"Cold..." she mutters against his mouth, but she doesn't mind. She's wet in a moment, excited about being touched like this again after days of convalescing and Coulson loses no time, pushing two fingers into her as soon as he senses she's ready.

"Still cold?" he jokes.

She shakes her head. "You may go on," she says in a solemn tone, making him chuckle.

Daisy tries not to move too much on account of her arm, but she doesn't need to. Coulson keeps his eyes on her while he fucks her with his fingers, slowly, carefully, until she thinks he wants to drive her crazy.

She begs a bit until he finally picks up the rhythm and makes her come.

After the _appetizers_ she must have dozzed off again because when she opens her eyes again Coulson has already set the table and is waiting for her.

The food is great as she predicted. Duh. Even though it's all traditional recipes it all has that adventurous Coulson touch (god she'd die before admitting she ever thought that about him). She complains about the lack of Christmasy music but Coulson has his ipod set low on a modern jazz playlist for ambiance. Because apparently now Daisy can tell between modern jazz and classic jazz and cool and bebop and – yeah, it's a bit embarrassing the way Coulson has always had of getting under her skin.

Also embarrassing? She eats every bit of food he puts in from of her.

"Now the gifts," she announces as soon as they take the last bite.

"Shouldn't we wait until the morning?" he asks.

"Coulson, come on. Christmas was two days ago."

"Fair enough."

She goes to get his present. It's not that easy to carry with one hand – Mack had helped her pack it in the base. Well, he also helped her pick it when she asked for advice.

"That's big," Coulson says, when she places the package between them on the couch.

He unwraps a lot less carefully than you'd expect from the Director of SHIELD – Daisy realizes it's the first time they buy each other presents.

"I figured you'd want another one," she explains. "Seeing how the latest visit from the American Bund destroyed the one you had... along with the rest of the office."

Coulson studies the record player. It's lighter than the one he had. It's metallic silver with pink finishes because Daisy found it funny that Coulson would own a pink record player. Also it was the best model she could find – that's were Mack helped, talking her through the technical aspects.

"This is amazing," Coulson says, looking at it transfixed. "Thank you."

"I should probably have bought some records, though. Sorry."

"It's okay. We'll buy them some other time."

She can't help but feel a thrill every time Coulson says _we_ in context. It's stupid, it shouldn't please her so much, they have been lovers for five months now, it's serious – it could never be anything but serious between them. Still. She really, really likes hearing it.

"Mine is a lot smaller," he tells Daisy, presenting an irregular shape wrapped in festive paper.

"You didn't have to," she says automatically.

"Yeah okay."

There's a clinking sound as she grabs the object. She narrows her eyes at Coulson because she has no idea what he could have bought her. She unwraps it not really knowing what to expect.

It's three pairs of interlinked bronze bracelets, a cute design of thin threads. They're... wow, Daisy thinks, they're amazing.

They're a lot like her old bracelets, actually, which she guesses it's where Coulson got the idea, but a lot better made – not exactly jewelry but just her style. Beautiful, discreet, a bit whimsical. 

They're perfect.

"I didn't know if you were going to like it," Coulson says, because she is taking a moment to say anything at all. "The last time I bought any kind of present was for Director Fury."

He's probably lying, purposedly omitting Audrey, and though Daisy really doesn't mind when he talks about her (and he does from time to time), she gets why he would think he has to avoid it right now. It's unnecessary but sweet.

"I love them," she says, because she really does. She goes to put them on but then she remembers – one useful hand. "Can you...?"

Coulson takes her arm and slips the bracelets slowly up her wrist. It's an oddly intimate and solemn gesture, which is absurd. They're – partners. They're dating. She shouldn't have to feel this heat in her cheeks just because Coulson is doing this for her.

"Thanks."

He studies her face a moment.

"I have another gift," he says all of the sudden. "Wait in the bedroom."

"But the table and the dishes..."

"I'll clean up tomorrow," Coulson says, helping her up from the couch.

She tilts her head to one side, surprised. "That's not like you."

"I'm a new man," he jokes, rushing her to the bedroom.

She has to laugh when five minutes later Coulson joins her there, wearing just his apron and obviously nothing under it. And she means _obviously_.

"I wasn't serious about this," she tells him.

"I know. But I like making you laugh."

He leans down from where he stands and kisses her. She does love to look at him in that outfit – so silly, so willing to please her.

"Okay," she says. "Now take it off because you were cooking in that. Gross."

He takes it off and climbs into bed with her, when she's already naked. His kisses taste of cranberry and brandy and happiness to her.

"Ouch," she complains, when he presses her against the pillow and the weight on her injured arm is too much.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, pulling back.

"How are we going to do this?" she asks, impatient to make love to him.

"You on top, of course," Coulson suggests.

She feels full and content after such a meal so the slowness and care her injury requires suits her right. Her body tingles, though, because apparently it's in her Inhuman metabolism that her powers really love carbs. She sits on his leg and strokes his cock lazily a couple of times.

"I should reward the cook for such a nice meal," she teases him, sliding her mouth across his jaw and then sucking at the spot under his ear.

"The cook has worked really – fuck – really hard on the food."

He lies on his back and helps Daisy find balance by holding her up by her hips as she sinks into him slowly.

He brushes the pads of his fingers against the gray bruises over her ribcage, the bruises on the inside of her thigh and knee.

When she starts moving her body over his – carefully, with some hesitation – Daisy lets out a loud, needy sound. They haven't been together like this in days, due to her injuries, and it's stupid but she has missed this. She has missed his body and his stupid smug smirk when he makes her moan and she has missed the way he keeps touching her face when he tops. It's only been _days_ she keeps telling herself – but she had been freaked out, too, as much as she played it off in front of everybody and specially in front of Coulson. She picks up the rhythm as she remembers how afraid she had been, _her reckless display of bravery_ , that's almost a cruel joke.

"Phil..." she calls, resting one hand over the scar on his chest. Not for the first time she feels very grateful he didn't really die from it.

Coulson nods at her and brings his hand between their bodies. Coming together with him is as easy as breathing – even with a fractured rib that makes breathing harder – and it's heartbreakingly familiar already. Daisy can't imagine ever giving this up. So when she comes down she still holds on to him, rolling off him only after a few breathless moments.

She closes her eyes and when she opens them again everything is warm and she is wrapped in bedsheets and blankets and she can still smell cranberries.

"You know, between the great food and the great sex, this was a pretty good Christmas," Daisy says as she settles against his chest and Coulson fidgets with the strap of her sling to free her arm from it without her having to move it. "Even if we are not exactly on Christmas anymore."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," he says, sounding amused.

"I wouldn't mind repeating it," she tells him, trying to sound non-chalant.

Coulson pulls her closer against his body. "That can be arraged."

"Like a tradition," Daisy adds. "I mean... Can we repeat it _indefinitely_?"

Coulson rests his hand over Daisy's ribs. The pressure on her bruises relieves the pain a bit as he caresses him.

"Yes, we can do that."

Indefinitely, Daisy thinks.

She likes how it sounds.


End file.
